Arthur Conan Doyle: A Life in Letters

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  to Mary Doyle DAVOS, MARCH 22, 1895

  It is so very pleasant to feel the spring in the air. It has done us all good. Touie whose pulse has seldom been under 100 during these two years is now at 84. The rheumatism also is better.

  We have had to give up Rome. Dr Huggard considers it a risk & the journey too long. Poor Symonds died last year, you know, by going there & many have done so. Touie seems perfectly happy & contented & we shall soon have the flowers. Then in June we go to the Maloja, which is within driving distance & is 6000 feet high, so we shall have a good change. The Maloja Hotel overlooks Italy & is wonderfully fine. There are beautiful walks, a lake for fishing, tennis & golf, so we shall put in our summer well. I have already written for rooms.

  My own movements are a little uncertain. I want to get the Brigadier off my hands before I make any plans. I am in the middle of the second last story, but I don’t see the end of it yet. I have corrected & revised Stark Munro and it is now in its final form. I think myself it is far the most original thing I have done & I should not be surprised to see it outlast all my other work. There is far more thought in it. On the other hand I do not expect the sale to be a brisk one, though it will be steady, I hope. The serial is, I hear, exciting a good deal of attention in America, and I see extracts copied into English papers which is a good sign.*

  We are just off—a dozen of us—on a ski excursion. We hope that when we return our telegram may have arrived. I am so sorry that I passed over dear Connie’s birthday. I get confused among them.

  to Mary Doyle DAVOS, MARCH 27, 1895

  I had some doubts as to whether to accept the [Royal Academy] invitation, but I have ended by doing so provisionally. Except to see my own people England does not draw me, and I am very contented here with my work which seems to be going very well. However if you feel strongly that I should go I’ll stick to it.

  In that case how would you like to come out here as early in April as Connie can spare you, and then returning with me in May. I should of course be happy to defray everything. It is so funny that you should not have seen what has & will be our home. It is at its dullest then, but still it is the place.

  If I come to London I cannot settle upon poor Connie when she has only just got rid of her nurse, and when I should also most certainly bring Willie’s work to a dead stop. I should take a bedroom at the Reform, I think, and then I could be central for business (a good deal of which must be done in a short time) and yet see my folk every day without putting them out. The mother most kindly wished me to go to Reigate—which I should do for the week end.

  Goodbye, dearest. Let me hear what you think. Jo Keating is all right—a nice little fellow and a really tolerable poet. With love to all your surroundings. Touie does well but is still rheumatic.

  to Mary Doyle APRIL 2, 1895

  I write this sitting on a sofa with the paper on my knee which is not conducive to neatness. I have had one of my throats—the second I have had this winter—but I look upon them as safety valves & blessings in disguise—though the disguise is certainly complete. They always confine me to my room for 6 days & as this is the 3d I am halfway through. They leave me rather weak.

  I mustered strength to put two lines on a card at my worst in response to Willy & Connie’s invitation. My Godfamily will now exceed my own.*

  I have done the fifth Brigadier, and I conceived (during my illness) the sixth so that they are practically all done, for which I cannot be sufficiently thankful. I should not be at all surprised to see the Brigadier become quite a popular character—not so much so as Holmes, but among a more discriminating public.

  to James Payn APRIL 11, 1895

  One wee little line to say how earnestly I hope that this spring weather is holding the rheumatism in check and that you feel something of it in your heart also. We are just off—my wife and I—for a little run to Innsbruck, and as we have not seen a blade of grass or a flower for so long we are full of anticipation. She has been seven months among the snow & firs, but she is wonderfully gentle and patient. I think she has had great benefit from the winter but I sometimes fear that we shall never be able to settle in England again.

  The Academicians have been good enough to invite me to dinner, and as I am sure never to be asked again I thought I should like to go. That will be on May 4th so I shall be in town on or about that date, and shall, I need not say, have a peep at you if I may. Mrs Hornung has made me an Uncle and I want to see my new relation. I shall put up at the Reform Club if I can get a bedroom vacant. I want to be central as I have a good deal of business to do in a very short time.

  I’ve done my six stories of ‘The Exploits of Brigadier Gerard’. I asked the Strand people to send them to you while they are running in the hope that some of them might amuse you. It is a funny thing that our idea of an historical novel is always something at or before the Jacobite times, simply because that was Scott’s idea of one. We forget that a longer interval separates us now from Napoleon than separated Scott from Prince Charlie.* No attempt has ever been made to idealise & turn into fiction Napoleon, Ney, Murat and all those wonderful fellows. Erckmann-Chatrian gives a narrative of campaigns from a peasant’s point of view, but there is no character drawing of the big men.

  Goodbye, my dear Payn. I often think of you. I am reading Halves for the second or third time. What an admirable idea, and how effective for dramatic treatment, the two brothers, their compact, and the return of the South American one.

  Conan Doyle’s trip to England had an important result for the family, undreamt of at the time he wrote the letter above. While in England he saw his friend the writer and scientist Grant Allen, who—a consumptive himself—assured Conan Doyle that the air of Hindhead, Surrey’s highest point, had added years to his life, and allowed him to live in his own home instead of hotels in places like Davos.

  ‘I rushed down to Hindhead,’ Conan Doyle said in Memories and Adventures, where ‘I bought an admirable plot of ground, put the architectural work into the hands of my old friend [Henry] Ball of Southsea, and saw the builder chosen and everything in train before leaving England. If Egypt was a success, we should have a roof of our own to which to return. The thought of it brought renewed hope to the sufferer.’

  to Mary Doyle DAVOS, MAY 25, 1895

  Here we are at Davos again after a most successful trip to England which has done Touie much good and which sends us back full of work and very contented with a quiet life.

  All that you say about the house, dear, has received my most careful consideration. Every point has been discussed and rediscussed and we have done things swiftly but with all due deliberation also. It is not merely Grant Allen’s case which gives us hopes that the place will suit Touie, but it is because its height, its dryness, its sandy soil, its fir trees, and its shelter from all bitter winds present the conditions which all agree to be best in the treatment of phthisis. If we could have ordered Nature to construct a spot for us we could not have hit upon anything more perfect. I have looked at the houses to sell in that part, but they are dear and not nearly so well situated. A £4000 house which I looked over is not to be compared with ours which will not cost (including £1000 for ground) more than £3500. That allows £2200 for the house and £300 for fencing and paths. I dont think it will cost more. This will always be property in what is perhaps the most improving part of England (there are some who say that land will go to £1000 an acre there, and I for one should not be surprised). I have bought 4 acres under £1000, and I don’t think it will prove to be a bad investment. Supposing that we can live there all the year round (as I confidently expect) there is no doubt that we shall save very much over the business by having a settled headquarters. If on the other hand it should prove that Touie even there could not stand the winter it would still be a saving to us to have a house for two thirds of the year, which would serve for the main body of the family in winter also. We have looked at it from every side and prepared for every eventuality.

  Then as to being
at the mercy of the builder I have Ball the architect who is an old friend and a man of most fastidious taste and critical turn of mind who will keep a constant eye upon the work. I think that fear may be entirely dismissed.

  As to my own amusements there I am within an hour of town and an hour of Portsmouth. I have golf, good cricket, my own billiard table, excellent society, a large lake to fish in not far off, riding if I choose to take it up, and some of the most splendid walks & scenery that could possibly be conceived. I don’t think theres much danger of my suffering from ennui.

  Our present idea of the house is roughly that it should be red tiled and that the rooms should be thus

  The sun will be in all the rooms (to the south) all day. This with 7 or 8 bedrooms above will do for us.

  I was very interested to hear your view about the stables. You know that within less than 100 yards (but unseen) we have the Royal Huts an old posting inn with, as I hear, considerable stabling, 8 horses &c. Dont you think I might use this & save the hundreds of pounds which the building would cost. They would have to be built behind my house which would mean cutting into my grove of trees which I am very loath to do, and so you would be if you could see what a fine natural shelter they make. On the other hand if we had to sell or let the house the want of stables would tell against us. We can get a carriage at five minutes notice from the Inn so as far as our own wants go we don’t need them. I am still a little in two minds about it. I don’t believe we shall ever want to let or sell. We shall take a pride in the house & furnish it lovingly and make it our final home. That is my idea.

  My lawyer has not yet completed his investigations—the deceased Baker was a bad hat and his titles want careful looking into—but up to date all looks right and on getting a final assurance I shall buy the land, and hope to have the house roofed in by Xmas, and ready for habitation by May or June.

  to Mary Doyle MALOJA, SWITZERLAND, JULY 2, 1895

  I hardly ever look out of the window here without wishing you were with me for I know how you love Nature & she is very beautiful here. The air is so clear & the tints so wonderful & the view from our windows the most perfect imaginable. In bad weather it is even better than in good, for, as we are 6000 feet high the clouds come & play all sorts of tricks among the mountains.

  Touie keeps fairly well—the rheumatism is better. She has had one touch of bronchitis since she came here, but it has almost gone. As to the children it is wonderful how the place agrees with them.

  My plans now rather incline towards leaving Ada & the children with the mother at Reigate next winter, and taking Lottie with us to Egypt. How does this strike you? There seems no reason why I should leave half the family in one hotel & the other half in another. On the other hand Egypt does not suit children—gives them a kind of low fever. Mother would not mind, in fact I think she would like it, and the small allowance might be useful. Altogether it seems to fit in for Lottie would be very useful to me with Touie. If the dear girl should get worse I would need someone with me.

  I have signed the contract & paid the deposit for the Haslemere land. I shall have no cause to regret it as an investment even if I should not live there—but I will live there. They say that land will go to £1000 an acre there & I quite believe it. I hope to pay a good part of the total cost—if not all of it—by my profits on those mines in which I invested. Some have gone up & some down, but I sell the up and hold the down until they turn, and on the whole I am quite £2000 to the good.

  I am working very steadily at ‘Rodney Stone’—provisional title, and have a good third of it done. I write from 1000 to 2000 words a day & I should finish about September. It will be as big as Micah, and I hope that it is going to do well. I have George the prince (scene, 1803), Charlie Fox, Nelson & others in it, and I have a good strong plot as well—I hope.

  I sent you a little packet yesterday with photos, an amusing letter &c. I am, as you know, under contract to do a Napoleonic book when this one is finished, so I have a hard time before me. It does me no harm. I think of going to Egypt slowly, via Vienna & Constantinople. I find that journeys always do Touie good.

  But ‘we are not a family when we travel,’ he told James Payn ruefully, ‘but a migratory tribe, a nurse, a maid—all sorts of retainers—I turn pale when I look at them. Then we have all sorts of scouts, sisters, sisters in law &c who join or leave the main body at uncertain intervals.’

  to Mary Doyle MALOJA, SEPTEMBER 7, 1895

  You will be glad to hear that I have finished my book. I am going over it again but in a week or so I hope to have it in its final form. I think of calling it ‘Rodney Stone. A Reminiscence of the Ring’. On the whole I am satisfied with it. It contains some scenes which are as good as I have ever done, and altho’ I dont think it has the ‘go’ of ‘The White Company’ or the thought of ‘The Stark Munro Letters’ it at least strikes a healthy manly patriotic note & deals with matter which is, I think, new to British fiction. It might make a big hit & it will certainly do me no harm.

  No doubt you have by this time received your copy of the Stark Munro Letters which came out yesterday. Appleton tells me that he has had a good advance order from the booksellers and Longman that he has had a bad one,* but my motive in writing the book was a higher one than supplying the market, and I shall not be in the slightest disappointed if it is not a financial success. In fact I do not get any advance from Longman upon it. It is a book which will either miss a reader altogether or else will hit him hard, but the man hit hard will be one in a hundred. He might look back to the reading of it as a turning point in his mental life, and he might keep a copy on his chosen shelf, but I could not conceive of its being generally popular. It will sell slowly but it will continue to sell for a long time to come or else I am absolutely wrong—which I have never been yet in the horoscope of any book of mine.

  I shall have a little rest now and I must then attack my Napoleonic Study which is due for the ‘Queen’ next year.

  The Stark Munro Letters captured hilariously his misadventures with the late Dr George Budd, his struggles to get a medical practice of his own going, and the beginnings of his marriage—but he also mixed this Bildungsroman with lengthy musings over the futility of organized religion, and some even more controversial issues.

  The Mam made clear to him her reservations about this, and he replied in a letter some of which has been torn away:

  to Mary Doyle

  The house on the other side of the road is on fire and many engines outside the window, which ‘imparts but small ease to the style’. I wrote to you only two days ago (with the cheque) but your Stark Munro letter came today which calls for an answer.

  Everything you say, dear, has my careful sympathy and attention. If my views continue to differ from yours it only shows how rooted those views are, for I had far rather be on your side than against you—you may be sure of that.

  I don’t follow about Ireland. I have always been an anti-home ruler, & have put in some work for that cause… [And I can] not believe in hereditary titles and law-makers. They are both offensive to reason. We want the best men—always the best men. I would have a second chamber, but it should have the pick of the nation in it. Then the Church is indefensible also. Why should the agnostic, the Catholic, and the dissenter help support what they look upon as error. If a Church has vitality let it live—if not it is time it died. Don’t prop it artificially. The Church-of-Englanders can run their own church. Why should outsiders help to run it. There is nothing subversive of order in these changes. They are mere justice, and danger lies in withholding justice.

  The whole scheme of the book was to draw faithfully one young man…what is a man without his intimate thoughts and questions of life. It is just in the treatment of [that] that Stark Munro is going to live when the thousand other young men who are born into fiction this year will die. Right or wrong, he is a man, complete, unemasculated, with a full mind and character. People will know him whether they like him or not—and I dont want them to li
ke him.

  But dont fear that I am going to proselytise in fiction. I only do this one book on that line. Never again! I wont break the same ground twice.

  to Mary Doyle MALOJA, SEPTEMBER 14, 1895

  Your pleasant letter arrived this morning. I must take your points seriatim. Just as to Jerome you do him an injustice. He surrendered the Editorship entirely to friend Barr about a year or more ago (who certainly let it decline). Jerome has now (last month) taken it over again, and you will, I think, see it go up. The illustrations to poor Stark Munro were too awful.

  I don’t expect much from the little book but as I may have said before I had far rather broaden by ever so little the religious thought of my day than write the best novel of my day. We have only had one critique, Daily News, full column, very good. Says Cullingworth is a lasting addition to the gallery of British &c &c. Also a letter from a young man saying that the book has helped him. That’s what I am going to get, and shall value.

  It was only last night that I came to the end of correcting ‘Rodney Stone’. It is new & fresh & not wanting in romance, you will find. You must not think because some of the scenes lie among prizefighters that the book is pitched in a low key. Among my characters are Lord Nelson, Lady Hamilton, George the prince, Charles James Fox, Francis, Sheridan, Nelsons leading officers &c. It is a bringing down of the romantic treatment to the Napoleonic era, which is a new thing. Scott was only 60 years from Waverley yet he made the times romantic. We are 90 years from my period (1803) and yet we have not associated romance with it. That is why this picturesque book may be a pioneer. I will now follow it up with a Napoleonic romance.

  If I know when you are in London, dear, I shall of course come at that time. It would be most delightful. But pray don’t tell the Countess I am there. I hate formal visits. How in the world could you have a quiet marriage at Masongill. It is only in great cities that you can go your way unobserved.* I quite sympathised with Nelson’s request, but I dont think you are granting it by having the marriage there. Be married in a travelling dress in London by special license. That is a quiet wedding.